


Send Me Pics of Your Dad

by FieryAngel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Boys Kissing, Castiel in tiny shorts, Castiel is Claire Novak's Parent, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Embarrassed Castiel (Supernatural), Embarrassed Dean Winchester, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Jack is a Novak, Lawyer Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Paparazzi Jack, Teacher Dean Winchester, jack ships it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 01:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19801858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FieryAngel/pseuds/FieryAngel
Summary: Dean Winchester isn't supposed to play favorites, but after only a week in his eighth grade biology class, he favors Jack Novak... and not just because of his cute dad, Castiel.Castiel is an environmental lawyer who volunteers with the after school club Dean runs. If his interests lie as much with the teacher as with the good the club does, well, that's just Castiel's little secret.When Dean's best friend meddles in the form of a gag gift, it sets events in motion that may bring these two together after 9 months of dancing around each other.





	Send Me Pics of Your Dad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lisafrankenstein](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisafrankenstein/gifts).



> Sometimes I have 8 half finished art projects, a mostly finished and yet to be posted fic, and a WIP I REALLY need to focus on with Gish two weeks away and someone posts a hilarious tweet, then someone says they need that scenario in Destiel flavor, and I just… gotta. So this is for twitter users @lisafrankenstn (who is a teacher, owns the shirt and ran into one of her kids and their family while wearing said shirt.) and @cupofteegan (who needed it in Destiel.)
> 
> Sidenote #1: No actual smut? Who AM I? 
> 
> Sidenote: I KNOW Dean’s birthday isn’t in the summer. Just roll with it.

The candles were extinguished, their waxy, smoked-tinged scent still lingering in the room, because let’s face it, 40 candles is _a lot._ The traditional cake has been cut, and consumed along with the birthday pie Dean insisted upon every year, and a small pile of presents are being stacked in front of the birthday boy where he sits at the head of his rarely used dining room table. 

“Open this one later,” Charlie says with a wink as she sets a package on Dean’s lap.

Dean gives her a curious, raised eyebrows look, then shrugs. He’ll save it for after his family filters out and goes home, leaving him alone with his best friend for the after party. And by after party, he means sitting around with Charlie, drinking beer and watching one of the many nerdy movies they’d both seen a million times while she listens to him whine about his total lack of a love life. Turns out being openly bisexual doesn’t exactly double your odds of attracting a life partner, when the current odds are zero.

He tries to blame work, but with school out for the summer, he can blame nothing but his own self and the lackadaisical approach he takes to actually finding someone. Chances of meeting Mr. or Ms. right in his own backyard were basically nonexistent unless he employs a pool boy who also happens to be his soulmate. And since most of the pool boys the company sends over happen to be college kids looking for summer work, that isn’t bound to happen anytime soon.

Dean sighs and opens presents from his parents, his brother, Sam and sister in law, Eileen, thanking everyone for the usual array of products for his car and gift certificates to the local café he buys coffee from daily. The gifts may not be a surprise, but they are all things he needs and appreciates, and each family member gets a hug and a sincere second thank you on their way out the door.

He’s rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher when Charlie walks up behind him and deposits her gift on the counter next to him. “Now, when you open this, keep in mind that I’m known for my gag gifting abilities and this has everything to do with how I’ve listened to you _pine_ over the Novak boy’s dad for the entire school year.”

Charlie teaches computers at the middle school where Dean works as an eighth grade biology teacher. They’d met in the teacher’s lounge the day she started and bonded quickly over Star Wars and Harry Potter. Over the years, they discovered they had more in common than not, and Dean thought if things were different, he might think she was his soulmate. 

He’d have to settle for platonic soulmates, because Dean wasn’t exactly Charlie’s type, which was something else they actually bonded over. Being bisexual, it was nice to have another queer teacher around on staff to talk to about things. Charlie was there for him back when he still considered himself "bi-curious,” when he went out to his very first gay bar, when he met and eventually got dumped by his very first boyfriend and when he finally decided to come out to his family. She is his best friend and constant in his life. 

So naturally, she’d heard all about _Castiel._

.  
.  
.

_Back to School night was never Dean’s favorite night of the year. There was something terrifying about 30 or so parents at a time, scrutinizing his every word, judging him on whether or not he’d be able to give their perfect little angels a proper education as he spoke about the curriculum for the year. But the previous September, a man walked into his classroom that made his heart flutter in his chest the second his intense blue eyes met Dean’s._

_“Castiel Novak,” the man said, his deep voice buzzing through Dean and sparking something deep inside him that felt an awful lot like lust._

_“Jack’s dad,” Dean said as Castiel took Dean’s hand and shook it in greeting. The man was handsome, with dark, unruly hair and a build that was just this side of thick. He stood almost, but not quite, Dean’s height, and was nicely dressed in a slim cut white dress shirt and blue tie that brought out those damned eyes. Dean wondered what it would be like to look into those eyes on the daily, and he envied whoever it was that got to wake up next to that every day. Fuck, he was so screwed and he’d only known the guy for 30 seconds._

_“It’s impressive that you’ve memorized your students’ names so quickly,” Castiel said, the corner of his mouth tugging up in the slightest hint of a smile._

_Dean leaned in, whispering, “Only my favorites, but don’t tell the other parents. We’re not supposed to play favorites around here.”_

_Castiel did smile at that, a small, mischievous, little thing, but it reached his eyes and made them sparkle in a way that made Dean’s stomach do a little flip. Oh, he was so screwed._

_“Your secret is safe with me. Now, next year, you’ll have Claire, and I’m just going to warn you now, she won’t be as delightful as my boy. She’s 13 going on 35 and has authority issues, so enjoy Jack while you have him,” Castiel said with a chuckle._

_“Oh is your wife going to her classes while you do Jack’s?” Dean asked, fishing for a relationship status like a dumbass._

_Castiel chuckled again. “No wife. Never has been, never will be. I had a husband, but I lost him just after Claire was born. The kids are mine, but we used a surrogate.”_

_Dean’s heart hammered in his chest. He was torn between being thrilled that Castiel was gay, and being truly sympathetic for his loss. Raising two small kids on his own must have been difficult, but if Jack was any indication, Castiel had done an absolute bang up job. The kid was polite and eager to learn, and Dean absolutely played favorites when it came to Jack, even if it had only been a week._

_“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dean said, sincerely._

_Castiel waved him away, averting his eyes, nervously. “It was a long time ago now, but thank you. Wow, that was entirely too much information,” he chuckles a little and meets Dean’s eyes again. “To answer your question, I’m juggling both kids’ schedules tonight. I’m just going to each of their favorite classes and collecting packets from the others. Not much else I can do.”_

_The other parents had filed into the room, sidestepping the pair of them as they spoke, and filling the seats with varying degrees of difficulty, considering many of them were much larger than their spawn, and the desks with their little connected seats weren’t exactly made for adults. Castiel gave Dean one last tight smile then excused himself so Dean could get started and greet the others._

_As the school year ticked by, Dean and Jack ended up spending quite a bit of time together. Dean ran the Environmental Club after school, and Jack joined as soon as Dean announced its existence. The kid was very passionate about the causes and projects, even enlisting his father to come in and spend some time helping out._

_Turns out, Castiel Novak was a revered environmental attorney, and he had a lot of knowledge and connections he could share with the club. Dean was more than grateful to accept any help he was offered, and Castiel was eager to be of assistance. Having Castiel around made it feel like the little club was actually making a difference instead of just sitting around talking about how they could help the environment. Castiel gave them wings to be more hands on, and it wasn’t long before Dean and Castiel were brainstorming and organizing projects together._

_They’d spent a Saturday with the kids, cleaning a local riverbank and they’d run a very successful fundraiser carnival. The kids brought in non-recyclable trash from home and they turned it into art that the school allowed them to put on display in the lobby of the school for the entire school year. They held neighborhood clean-ups, recycling drives and bake sales. Castiel was full of ideas, and with every second Dean spent in the man’s presence, he could feel himself falling just a little bit more for the guy._

_Problem was, even with their subtle back and forth flirting throughout the year, neither of them ever made a move. Dean didn’t know if it was a boundary thing for Castiel, after all Dean was Jack’s teacher, and would be Claire’s when school started again in the fall. It didn’t help that every time they were around each other, so were about twenty nosey middle-schoolers. It wasn’t exactly the right environment for picking a dude up._

_Dean was almost certain the attraction wasn’t one-sided, but Castiel never expressed any real interest in him, and Dean was far too self-loathing to make the first move. What kind of partner could a middle school teacher who can barely pay his mortgage every month be for a freaking lawyer who seemed to have his whole life together?_

.  
.  
.

Dean sighs as his walk down memory lane screeches to a halt with the loud clearing of Charlie’s throat. She taps on the wrapped package and raises an eyebrow in question.

“Thinking about him again?” she asks, reaching for a dishtowel and handing it to Dean to dry his hands on so he can open the gift.

“When am I not?” he asks, punctuating the question with a frustrated groan. “I’m fucking gone on him, and spent the first week of the summer break trying to think up ways to bribe Claire to join the Environmental Club next year so I can keep pining from not-so-afar.” He was bummed as hell that Jack was off to high school and had new clubs to join, leaving Dean potentially Cas-less for the rest of his miserable life.

“Look, I’m no expert here, but you still have the phone list. You could just… I don’t know… call and ask him out!” Charlie teases, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“If I didn’t have the balls to ask him out when I was seeing him a couple times a week for nine months, there’s no way I have the balls to call him up out of the blue and ask him out. Boundaries, Charles.” He picks up the gift and turns it upside-down so he can slide his finger into the seam of the wrapping paper and pop the tape with minimal mess. He abhors clutter and picking up tiny pieces of shredded paper later is not on his to-do list.

Charlie starts to giggle like a fiend once Dean finally gets the paper off and the box underneath open. He pulls a shirt out, holding it up so it can fall open and he reads it.

“You fucker,” he says with no heat behind it before falling into a fit of giggles. The teeshirt is heather grey with big, bold white lettering that spells out, ‘Send me pics of your dad,’ and hard as he tries, Dean cannot stop laughing at it. “Where the fuck did you find this?”

“Never underestimate my ability to find the perfect gift,” was all Charlie says as she gathers up discarded wrapping, balling it up and stuffing it into the trash. 

“And she cleans up too. Best birthday ever,” Dean says with a chuckle, before pulling Charlie in for a quick hug. “Not that I can ever wear this out of the house, Charlie, but it’ll be my favorite lounge tee.” He kisses her forehead and ruffles her hair, fondly.

Dean lives in the same small town he works in, which makes running into students and parents outside of school almost inevitable, so when he shoves that teeshirt to the back of his teeshirt drawer, he knows what he’s doing. The last thing he needs to do is run into a student and their family while wearing such a suggestive tee shirt.

Of course, he quickly forgets that fact about three weeks later. Charlie had managed to find the softest teeshirt in all existence and Dean fucking loves that inappropriate shirt more than any other article of clothing he owns, sleeping in it as often as his laundry schedule allows. One morning, groggy as all get out, he pulls out his shorts for the gym and puts them on, completely forgetting to change into a less embarrassing teeshirt. Later, he’s jogging on the treadmill, facing the ridiculous floor to ceiling mirrors gyms install to make people feel either really bad about themselves or really narcissistic, when he notices it. 

“Fuck,” he grumbles, shaking his head. It’s not that he’s ashamed about liking men. He’s been out and proud for years now, but the thought of running into a student or parent is mortifying. Too self conscious to go on, he skips the rest of his workout, grabbing his towel, keys, wallet and phone out of his locker and heading out to the Impala so he can get the fuck out of dodge.

He’s just about to pass his favorite cafe when his stomach growls. Gift certificate burning a hole in his pocket and figuring he already skipped the majority of his workout so he may as well indulge in a fancy latte and a carefully selected pastry from the display, he pulls into a spot at the front of the little shop. He gets out of the car, slamming it shut with a squeak of its old hinges and takes a look around. The street is fairly deserted and a glance into the storefront confirms it’s a slow time of day, and he knows no one inside except for the barista, whom he trusts enough to not make fun of his shirt. This is fine. In and out. He’s got this.

There’s one customer ahead of him when he gets in line and he studies the menu, looking for just the right treat to tempt him away from his usual black coffee, having already deciding he’d order a fruit tart and a sandwich for when he gets home.

“Mr. Winchester?” 

Dean freezes, eyes wide in surprise, as his heart starts pounding against his ribs as if it’s trying to escape his body. He knows that voice, and he certainly knows the one that follows it. It often stars in some of his filthiest dreams.

“Hello, Dean.”

Oh God, there’s no escape. Castiel and Jack are directly behind him in line, blocking his path to the door, and there’s no way to duck out of here gracefully. 

Oh fuck.

“Oh hey, Novaks!” Dean greets them cheerily over his shoulder so he doesn’t have to turn around fully. He tries to go back to studying the menu, praying that’s the end of the conversation, but this isn’t just any family from school, this is Cas and Jack.

“How has your summer been so far? Miss me yet?” Jack asks with a big smile.

“You know I do, kid. I hate that I’m losing you to high school already. You and your dad were a huge part of the Environmental Club.” He’s saved by the barista asking if he can help him, and he breathes a little sigh of relief and orders a mocha latte and the previously decided upon snacks. He pays and crosses his arms over his chest before finally turning to face the Novaks.

“You know, I’d still be happy to come help out when I can,” Castiel says sincerely, his soft, blue eyes never leaving Dean’s, thank God.

“Your Dad,” Jack says quietly, and Dean’s eyes go wide when he looks down to see Jack trying to read his shirt. 

“So, how has your summer been, Cas?” he asks, trying to ignore the fact that he’s currently wearing the most embarrassing article of clothing he owns in front of the man he’s been crushing on for months and his teenage son.

“Busy. Big lawsuit against the old paint factory that dumped into the lake back in the 70’s. The townsfolk want it cleaned up and paid for by the company, but since it was long before people were so environmentally conscious, they’re trying to use the defense that they cleaned up their act once they learned about the affect their actions had.”

Dean nods along as Cas talks, more interested in keeping Cas distracted until he can escape than in what Cas is actually saying. He’d already read about the case in the local newspaper anyway.

“What does this say?” Jack, ever curious, starts tugging at Dean’s folded arms, and when Dean’s wallet is jostled loose and drops to the floor, his arms fall away on instinct in an attempt to catch it.

“Shit,” he whispers under his breath as Jack reads his shirt and starts giggling. He’s looking at the floor in shame when Cas bends and retrieves his wallet for him. He takes it and tucks it into his pocket and he can feel how red his cheeks are getting.

“Cute shirt,” Jack says, still laughing his smug little ass off, and Dean wants to disappear. He wants the earth to open up beneath his feet and swallow him whole. He wants to turn back time and take a second to look in the mirror before leaving the house that morning. He would even accept a hellhound showing up and dragging him away for an eternity in hell, if it would just get him out from under Castiel’s questioning gaze.

“It was a gag gift from a friend. I know I shouldn’t wear it around town. The school is right down the road. I was an idiot and forgot to take it off before I went to the gym. I should have gone straight home instead of stopping here. I’m so stupid. I thought I could get in and out without running into anyone, and of all people, of course I run into you,” he stops his nervous rambling right there, wondering if Cas even realizes what Dean had basically just confessed. 

The barista saves his life again, a second later, calling out his name for his order, which he snatches and rushes towards the door with calling out a short goodbye on his way and never seeing the soft smile Castiel is wearing in response to everything he’d just learned.

.  
.  
.

The kids are happily swimming in the pool while Castiel reads on a nearby chair, indulging in what is arguably his biggest vice, sunbathing. He knows the dangers of it, but he never feels better than when he has a deep golden tan, so he allows himself a half hour a day before he applies sunscreen, but not before slathering his children in a thick coat of the strongest SPF on the market. ‘Do as I say, not as I do,’ may as well be his parenting motto.

As he lays there, sprawled out in his tiniest shorts and nothing else, his mind wanders to earlier in the cafe. It had been a spur of the moment thing, stopping for a treat with Jack while Claire had her karate lesson, but it may have ended up being the best decision of his life. After months of spending time with Dean, and never being totally positive that Dean liked men, he was about 99% sure once he saw Dean in that shirt. He said the shirt was a gag gift, but his nervous word vomit, adorable blushing and quick exit was endearing enough that Castiel saw the truth behind the joke.

Castiel will be the first to admit that he’s awful at social cues, not the best at flirting, and has the world’s worst gaydar, but being around Dean and falling under the spell of his green eyes and smattering of freckles, he’d started to come out of his shell around the man. They’d built a playful, flirty rapport as they spent more and more time together, and every day he hoped Dean would finally ask him out. He’d considered taking the first step, but he hadn’t dated since he’d lost Mick, and he wasn’t positive that Dean was even attracted to men, so he talked himself out of it time and time again. The last thing he wanted to do was make things awkward for Jack if he asked Dean out and was shot down.

So the school year ended, and with it, Castiel’s excuse to see Dean. He tries not to think about Dean, but even a month into the summer break, he thinks about him at least once a day, and every time, he’s filled with a sense of regret. How could he have left that last meeting of the Environmental Club without at least testing the waters and asking Dean on a coffee date or something. At the very least, they felt like friends, but Cas just walked out that day and never looked back. Coward.

Maybe things will change now. Perhaps once Claire is in Dean’s class, he can finally speak up about his feelings and do something about them. Maybe.

Jack jogs past Cas, drawing his attention from the book he was staring at without actually reading. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asks, pushing thoughts of Dean to the back of his mind.

“Bathroom,” Jack answers, before running off with shifty eyes. Cas shrugs it off. Teenagers are weird. He’s probably texting a girl and wants his privacy.

.  
.  
.

Dean takes the tee shirt off and buries it in the bottom of the hamper as if it personally kicked his puppy. Not that he has a puppy… but still. The shirt is the enemy, and he never wants to see it again. 

He pulls on a fresh shirt, sans snappy saying, and eats his sandwich, each swallow taking more effort than he would like. He hates that feeling of being so upset that the act of giving his body sustenance is just too much fucking effort. Finally, he wraps the second half and puts it in the fridge before deciding to work off some nervous energy by mowing the lawn. 

The sun is high in the mid-July sky, the temperature is steadily climbing into the 90’s and he’s sweated through his clothes by the time he’s only a quarter of the way through his yard. He feels his phone vibrate with a text in his pocket and ignores it, figuring if it’s important the person will call, and gets on with his yard work.

After the mowing, he pulls weeds, and gets the hedges trimmed. He pulls a bag of mulch out of the shed and freshens up his garden, then gets the hose and waters everything. Content with the amount of energy he’s expended, he returns to the blissfully air-conditioned house, chugs as much water as he can without making himself sick to his stomach and pulls his fruit tart out of the fridge. He takes a bite and remembers the text from earlier, pulling out his phone while he swallows. The message is from an unknown number, and he almost ignores it, but with a shrug and another bite of his treat, he taps on the message, choking on his tart when a series of pictures load.

Dean coughs up the crumbs and sets the rest of the tart aside as he scrolls though the photos, jaw dangling comically as he takes in all the _tan skin_ and _firm muscles_ on display. 

“Holy fuck, Cas,” Dean whispers, scrolling back up to go through them again. Castiel is wearing swim trucks. Tiny, tight, baby blue swim trunks with white trim and a drawstring tied into a little bow _low_ between his fucking glorious hipbones. “Holy fuck, Cas,” he mumbles again as the phone vibrates in his hand.

_I hope you liked the pics of my dad ;)_

Well that explains why he doesn’t recognize the number. He has Castiel’s programmed into his phone, but not Jack’s.

“You devious little fucker,” Dean says to himself, grinning at his phone.

 _Lovely composition,_ Dean types back with a chuckle, adding _But my shirt wasn’t literal._

Three dots appear to indicate Jack is replying, and that’s the only thing that keeps Dean from scrolling back up, because goddamn, does he like the pics of Jack’s dad.

_Maybe not, but I see the way you two look at each other, and if my dad is ever gonna date again, I’m going to have to interfere because you two are hopeless._

Oh? Dean knew they got flirty, but was there a snowball’s chance in hell that Cas _actually_ liked Dean the way Dean liked him? He feels hope bloom in his chest and a grin spread on his face. The phone vibrates again, with another picture this time. This time Cas has a beach towel wrapped around his waist hiding the tiny shorts, and he’s standing by the edge of the pool, his dark hair wet and messy and his skin glistening with tiny droplets of water. It feels so wrong to be getting aroused by these pictures, knowing that Jack is the one sending them, but here we are, and he’s getting hard in his shorts.  
_Stop being a little creeper. Does he even know you’re taking these?_

_Of course not._

_Then knock it off and tell him if he’s interested in me, to give me a call himself._

Shit, shit, shit. He actually hit send. Fuck. Why did he do that? Jack is playing matchmaker and he’s probably running off to tell Cas all about it right now. For the second time that day, Dean is mortified. He drops the phone on the kitchen counter and makes his escape to the bathroom to hopefully drown himself in a cold shower.

.  
.  
.

Castiel is feeling refreshed from his dip in the pool, freshly coated with sunscreen and laying back in his chair when he notices Jack sitting at their little outdoor kitchen bar, smiling deviously at his phone. 

“Got yourself a girlfriend, son?” he teases, and Jack’s head snaps up and he blushes.

“No,” Jack grumbles before returning his attention to the device. 

“That blush suggests otherwise,” Cas says with a laugh. He supposes Jack is getting to that age where his little schoolboy crushes are going to start getting more serious. He should just leave him alone, rather than embarrass the poor kid about it.

“It’s not even a girl,” Jack says, the devious smile back on his face.

“Oh? I didn’t know you liked…”

“Dad! I don’t! Geez!”

Now Cas is really curious as he watches Jack type something out then giggle. He knows he should give the boy his privacy, but he’s dying to know what’s keeping his son so entertained. As far as Cas knows, Jack is a lot like him, nerdy, awkward and with very few friends. Who could he be talking to?

“So who is it?” he asks, feigning nonchalance. 

Jack’s answer is a gasp, and Cas gazes back over to see Jack’s mouth hanging open and his eyes shining, gleefully. His eyes leave his phone and connect with Castiel’s before dropping down so he can type out a very short message.

“See for yourself,” Jack says, pushing up from the barstool and walking the phone over to Cas before running off into the house to escape whatever wrath Cas will rain down on him for meddling.

Cas wakes the phone back up with a press of a button and the text thread pops right up. At the top is the name, ‘Mr. Winchester,’ and Castiel’s stomach drops. “Oh no, what did you do Jack,” he whispers before scrolling to the top and seeing a series of pictures of himself laying by the pool, wearing next to nothing. 

“Nooooooo,” he cries, scrolling down to see no less than ten pictures. In one he’s reading with one arm extended over the back of his chair, shorts bunched up on his thick thighs. In the next, he’s on his stomach, looking out over the pool, aviator sunglasses perched on his nose, the curve of his ass pronounced from how he ’s leaning on his elbows, back arched a bit. There are pictures of him standing with his hands on his hips, one of him bending over to grab a bottle of sunscreen off the patio floor, one of him fresh out of the pool and glistening in the sun.

“Oh God,” he says, sighing and running a hand over his face. He has to fix this, but how? It was probably just a joke on Jack’s part after seeing Dean’s shirt that morning, but why did he have to send these pictures? He could have sent one of hundreds of pictures in which Castiel is fully clothed, thank you very much, but no, his son would send pictures of him that leave almost nothing to the imagination.

With a deep breath, he scrolls down to the end of the conversation.

_Then knock it off and tell him if he’s interested in me, to give me a call himself._

_ok_

And that’s it. Dean didn’t reply. Fuck. What does it mean? Was Dean serious? Why didn’t he answer? If it was a joke, he would have texted back a ‘just kidding,’ wouldn’t he?

Castiel’s heart is racing and he’s fairly certain he’s close to hyperventilating. He’s been out of the game for far too long, never wanting to date while his kids were small, but now that they were teens and he found someone he liked, he’d been thinking about it more than he cared to admit. Oh God, should he call Dean? Maybe he’d call, just to apologize for Jack and see where it went from there.

.  
.  
.

Dean dries himself and dresses in soft cotton lounge pants and a tee shirt that _does not_ say ‘send me pics of your dad,’ before returning to his discarded phone. When he finally finds it where he left it in the kitchen, he sees he has a couple missed calls from Cas, but not a single voicemail. 

“Ugggghhhhhh,” he cries out, tapping the phone against his forehead in frustration. Does he call back? Wait for Cas to call again? Jump off the nearest bridge? That last option is sounding pretty good right about now if he’s being completely honest.

He puts the phone back on the counter and glares at it as if it personally offended him, then picks it up and sets it down again a few times before throwing his hands up and walking away, intent on busying himself with housework and waiting out Cas. If he calls, great. If not, well Dean will just deal with that rejection later.

He has the windex in one hand and a roll of paper towels in the other, with the intention of cleaning his windows, when a knock sounds at the door. With a quick glance down at himself to make sure he at least put on semi-matching clothes, sans embarrassing text, he walks over and yanks the door open to the last person he expected to see standing on his doorstep.

“You didn’t answer,” Cas says in place of a proper greeting. He looks harried, hair wild, probably because it dried that way after his swim earlier, and his eyebrows are drawn together as if he’d been worrying. 

“I was in the shower,” Dean answers, noticing the way Cas gives him a quick up and down glance before nibbling at his bottom lip. Oh God, is Cas picturing him naked? Could he be that lucky?

“I um, I just wanted to apologize… for Jack. He shouldn’t have done what he did, and I’m embarrassed,” Cas starts. 

“You got nothing to be embarrassed about, Cas,” Dean says, cutting him off before his rambling gets out of hand. “The kid was only following instructions, after all,” He says, thinking a self deprecating joke is the best solution right now. They were both embarrassed today, after all. He winks at Cas for emphasis, and watches as his cheeks redden adorably. 

“Regardless, he crossed a line, Dean. I was barely… I was practically… well, I’d rather he not sent you _those_ pictures. He has plenty on his phone in which I am fully dressed.”

“Well, if its any consolation, you looked damn good,” Dean says, head tilting down so he can study his feet, which are suddenly very interesting to him at this exact moment in time. Cas is silent for a few moments and Dean finally gets the courage to meet his eyes again. “OK, well, no worries. Apology accepted or whatever. That all you needed, Cas?”

Cas shuffles his feet for a moment nervously, then takes a deep breath and releases it as if summoning the strength to answer. “C-can I come in for a minute?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah, of course. Come on in. Sorry I’m so rude. I promised I wasn’t raised in a barn,” Dean says as he leads Cas into the kitchen. It isn’t the first time Cas has been to the house, having organized events together and carpooled on occasion, but it is the first time he doesn’t have Jack in tow. “Can I get you something to drink?” He tugs open the refrigerator door to survey its contents, but as he’s about to reach in for a bottle of water, a strong hand wraps around his elbow and gently turns him away from the fridge.

Cas pushes the door shut, then crowds Dean against it, hands coming up to cup Dean’s face. “Tell me no,” Cas challenges, leaning in as if he’s going to kiss Dean.

Dean draws in a shaky breath, then his own hands are on Castiel’s hips, urging him closer. His eyes dart down to Cas’ lips in a challenge of his own. “Can’t do that, Cas. Do with me what you will.”

Dean gasps when Cas does the least expected thing ever, tilting Dean’s head to the side and pressing plush lips against his throat then dragging them across his skin. “Dean,” Cas whispers reverently against his ear and it sends a full body shiver through Dean’s body. “I’m interested in you,” he says, echoing the instructions Dean had texted Jack not even an hour earlier.

Dean can’t help the little giggle that bubbles up from his chest and his head tips back to thud against the freezer door. “Fuck, Cas. I thought you were going to eat me alive there for a second, then you go and,” he trails off with a sigh. He’s elated. This is, in some ways, way better than being ravaged in a fit of lust against his fridge. He’d been pining so long, and Cas just said he was _interested_ in him. And it has to be more than raw desrie, or he’d probably have Dean bent over the counter by now, right? Dean takes another deep breath, then meets Castiel’s eyes, a pleased smile on his face. “I’m interested in you too, Cas.”

.  
.  
.

ONE YEAR LATER

“Hey,” Dean says as he feels strong arms wrap around his middle from behind and his favorite pair of soft lips press to the back of his neck. 

“Hey yourself,” Cas says, hands splaying wide and moving over Dean’s bare stomach. 

Off in the distance the sounds of Claire and Jack splashing in the pool alert them that neither has actually drowned the other yet, so the men continue to ignore them in favor of the soft touches they’re getting more and more wrapped up in. Dean turns away from the grill, where steaks were currently cooking, pulling Cas to him properly and bringing their lips together for a kiss that’s just this side of teenager friendly. When no gagging sounds alert them of being watched, Dean lets his hands glide down Cas’ wet, bare back, just low enough to cup his firm ass where it’s encased in those tiny baby blue shorts he loves so much. 

“Mmm, I really love these on you,” Dean murmurs against Castiel’s lips, giving his ass another squeeze. 

“You only like them because they barely leave anything to the imagination,” Cas teases, leaning in to plant a little bite on the sweet spot under Dean’s ear. He’d spent the better part of the last year finding all the little spots on his boyfriend that makes his toes curl, and he exploits them every chance that he gets.

“And because they’re kind of what got us together,” Dean counters, winking lasciviously when Cas backs up and arches a challenging eyebrow at him.

“Oh really? Because…” he backs up a few steps and retrieves a grey scrap of fabric from the nearby chair Dean had abandoned it on when he’s jumped in the pool earlier. “I thought this was to blame.” he presses it to Dean’s chest, and Dean’s hand comes up to hold it there while Cas plants a sweet kiss on his lips.

“Ok, that’s fair,” Dean says with a shrug, shaking out the best birthday present Charlie ever gave him and pulling it over his head. He smooths it over his abdomen and pulls Cas against him again, kissing the breath out of him.

“So, I told you I invited you over for a reason,” Cas said, vaguely, continuing after Dean nodded in acknowledgment. “I was wondering… I mean, it’s only been about a year… but when you’re here, everything feels right, and when you go home… well… the kids miss you.”

Dean can’t help but suppress a chuckle by biting his lip. Cas was adorable when he got all nervous and flustered. “The kids miss me? Are they the only ones?” he teases, smirking at Castiel’s tiny little scowl.

“You know I love you and miss you when you go home. I tell you at least ten times a day,” Cas huffs, poking Dean in the chest for emphasis. “Would you like to move in with me?”

Dean can’t even pretend he’s able to control the smile that splits his face. He gathers Cas up in his arms and kisses the life out of him. “Yeah, Cas. Yes. I’ll start packing my shit tonight.”

“Eager,” Cas teases, but the way he’s beaming back at Dean gives him away as being just as impatient as Dean is.

“I get to wake up with you every damned day and kiss the grumpiness off your pissy little face? Hell yes, I’m eager!” They’re both laughing and kissing, and Dean has to pull away for a second when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Eileen is pregnant and due any day, and Sam has been going out of his mind with excitement, so life-altering moment for Dean or not, he has to check it. 

He raises a dubious eyebrow when he sees the text is from Jack and he glances across the backyard to see the boy with his phone in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face. Dean clicks the message and a few pictures load. The first one is Cas standing on the diving board, getting into form, those tiny shorts hugging him in all the right places, followed by one of a perfect dive into the deep end. The next one is Dean himself, smoothing out his tee-shirt, ‘send me pics of your dad’ clearly visible while Cas stands there watching adoringly, and the last one is he and Cas in what is clearly a very passionate embrace. Dean suspects that was taken just moments ago when Cas asked him to move in.

He looks up again and Jack is grinning back at him. Dean glances down at his shirt, then back up at the kid and shoots him a little wink. Cas looks over his shoulder at the photos and asks for copies, which he texts right away, then Cas is wandering off to lounge in the sun, stretching out in his chair, all that tan skin on display. Dean’s dick twitches in his shorts as he thinks of all the ways he’s going to explore all that skin later, his tongue lapping the flavor of sunshine and sweat off Castiel’s body as he takes him apart piece by piece. 

“Down boy,” he whispers to his crotch before using his phone to do one last, long over due thing. He opens the camera, switches it to forward facing then holds his the phone up high enough to capture himself, the front of his teeshirt and his new family in the background. He pulls up his last text with Charlie and texts one little sentence to accompany the photo. 

_Did I ever thank you for the shirt?_

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for Castiel's tiny shorts can be seen:  
> [here](https://www.newchic.com/mens-swimwear-6382/p-1291166.html?gmcCountry=US&currency=USD&createTmp=1&ID=516223516264&utm_source=googleshopping&utm_medium=shopping&utm_campaign=pla-ssc-all-us1&utm_content=muna2&gclid=Cj0KCQjwpavpBRDQARIsAPfTwiwQygXZRmt4Hehhw0dtulQ3hXfVbUWS4XE5NoGJ4bUo--6YRg7x2YQaAiaWEALw_wcB)  
> Just invert the colors ;)


End file.
